


Turning Forty-Two

by MarianneGreenleaf



Series: "Missing" Scenes in The Music Man: Canon and Fanon Reflections [6]
Category: Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: Aging, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianneGreenleaf/pseuds/MarianneGreenleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This vignette was originally just going to be a stand-alone scene bridging the gap mood-wise between the light-hearted “Some Rain Must Fall” and the much more somber “The Dead Stay With Us.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Forty-Two

_Loving you is snow and jasmine_  
_And the noise of New Year’s Eve._  
_Loving you is now and yesterday_  
_Is real, and make believe._

_Loving you is rain and winter wind_  
_And gazing at the lazy summer skies;_  
_Fireworks reflecting in your eyes;_  
_Foolish and improbable and wise._

_Loving you is tart as lemonade_  
_And sweet as April wine._  
_Loving you is watching_  
_All the lovely things of life combine._

_In your arms, I’m all I wish I were:_  
_I’m brave, I’m strong and I’m true_  
_As long as I can go on living, loving you…_

_~Robert Preston, Mame_

XXX

_Spring 1928_

June was fast approaching, and Marian Paroo Hill would be turning forty-two this year – the exact same age that Harold Hill was when he first came to River City.

As the librarian stood quietly on the threshold to the music room and watched her music professor play _Für Elise_ on their piano, she found it hard to believe that so much time had passed since that momentous summer, which had changed both of their lives forever. Although the conman had indeed reformed and Marian had finally allowed herself to love Harold openly, it took her heart much longer to trust that theirs was truly a lasting love. Indeed, their courtship had been tumultuous as well as passionate, as they had both been firmly set in their solitary ways before they met, and it took a surprising amount of struggle to break down the barriers they’d each built up to protect themselves from pain and heartbreak.

But as they’d both been determined to persevere over their reticence, everything had worked out beautifully for them in the end. Harold had turned fifty-eight on April first, and not only was he a content family man, he was still as passionately in love with her as ever. And Marian felt the same thrill of delight in the pit of her stomach whenever she was in the presence of the man she loved. She especially loved to see him perform, whether he was bombastically conducting a concert for the entire town or quietly playing the piano for his own private enjoyment. As Marian watched her husband’s deft fingers tickle the well-worn ivories, she recalled a few other things those marvelous, masculine hands were capable of, and as they were alone in the house this afternoon, she looked forward to experiencing those delights very soon.

Indeed, it wasn’t long before Harold sensed her eyes upon him and, turning toward his wife with his usual charming grin, motioned for her to join him on the piano bench for a duet. Although they had never attempted to play Mozart’s _Concerto for Two Pianos_ together in such cramped quarters – they had always performed this piece at the far better equipped music emporium – the music professor did not protest when Marian suggested this selection, even though he knew as well as she did that though the concerto was a duet, it was not a piece made to fit on a single piano. Still, husband and wife managed to solve this dilemma without too much trouble; Harold transposed his section up a few octaves and Marian transposed hers downward, which made for a rather strange-sounding rendition but allowed the two of them to make do.

As Marian’s slender fingers moved over the keys, occasionally getting tangled with Harold’s in the process and causing him to hit several wrong notes in disconcertment, she giggled and nestled even closer to her husband. This threw him even more off balance – although his repertoire had expanded greatly beyond _Chopsticks_ over the years, the piano remained his weakest instrument in terms of technical skill, despite the passion with which he imbued his playing.

As for Marian, she could easily play any piece note-perfect and continue to tease Harold a little, even as she began to slip into reverie once more. Things had changed so much in sixteen years: Whereas the girls of Zaneeta’s generation – now approaching middle age, themselves – would have died of happiness to be seated so close to Professor Hill, today’s teenagers fancied famous movie stars like Rudolph Valentino and Buster Keaton. River City’s revered bandleader was no less popular among the young women, but now that nearly all of his rich chestnut locks had turned gray and his face was lined, they loved him as a benevolent grandfather rather than a dreamy Adonis. Still, while the music professor’s dashing good looks might have faded somewhat with age – but only in the minds of more objective observers, as Marian still considered him the most handsome man she knew – Harold Gregory Hill had lost none of his charisma, and could rivet the attention of a crowd just as easily and elegantly as he had when he first preached about the dangers of a pool table on River City’s town green.

And charisma wasn’t the only thing Harold hadn’t lost. He may have been aging, but he certainly wasn’t infirm – although he was nearly sixty, he retained his vigorous carnal appetites, making love to his wife with just as much enthusiasm and passion as he had when he first brought her home as his new and blushing bride. Surmising that this was certainly not the case for most women approaching their seventeenth year of marriage, the librarian felt fortunate indeed that she was still able to enjoy such a full and active life with her husband. Yet as her mother had warned her, she mustn’t ever take their passion for granted, because it might become a memory a lot sooner than she or even Harold expected…

“That’s the second wrong note you’ve played in two minutes, Madam Librarian. Soon you’ll sound as terrible as I do,” the music professor observed with a grin – which immediately faded when he saw that his wife was no longer smiling. “A penny for your thoughts, darling?”

The wonderful thing about being nearly forty-two – as well as having sixteen happy years of marriage under her belt – was that Marian could reveal to her husband everything she’d presently been ruminating over without any fear or embarrassment. And so she did just that.

“A few days ago, Mama told me that she and Papa stopped making love soon after Winthrop was born. Not because they wanted to, but because he, well, _couldn’t_ any longer.” Marian paused as her cheeks began to crimson, after all. But she didn’t let that stop her from continuing to forge bravely ahead in discussing this dicey subject: “Mama said that even though she always knew she’d outlive him due to the difference in their ages, his impotence came as an awful and unexpected shock. And even though Papa didn’t pass away until seven years later, the year Winthrop was born was the first time she really started to feel like a widow.” The librarian paused again, this time to swallow as an unpleasant lump came into her throat. “She told me this because she thought it best to prepare me for the future, as you’re nearly the age that Papa was when he passed away… ” She had to pause a third time, as she couldn’t speak further lest she burst into tears.

Harold immediately gathered her in a warm hug. “Marian,” he said, his voice also heavy with sadness, “I’d be lying if I told you these things haven’t crossed my mind, as well. But let me tell you something, my dear little librarian… ” He moved away from her a little, just enough so he could look into her eyes and cup her damp cheek in his hand. “If Providence ever sees fit that I should no longer be able to make love to you in the traditional way, I’m not about to let that stop me from pleasuring you in any way I can.” He grinned – though his gaze remained serious. “After all, I’ll still have my hands” – he cupped and caressed her breasts, making her shiver pleasantly indeed – “and my mouth” – he craned his head and gave her neck a love-bite that was brief but hard enough to make her cry out in delight. “Nothing short of the complete and total destruction of my body could keep me from loving you… ”

As Harold’s mouth continued to roam over her cheeks, neck and throat, Marian impishly murmured, “Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, before we too into the dust descend… ”

Her husband chuckled. “Is that an invitation, Missus Hill?” he asked in between kisses.

“Certainly not! It’s a line from the _Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam_ ,” the librarian answered primly. When Harold’s head snapped upward to look questioningly at her – she laughed inwardly to see that she could still knock him off balance – she tilted her head and gave her husband that sly, sideways smile she knew drove him wild. “But then again… that was the ‘dirty book’ Mrs. Shinn scolded me about recommending to Zaneeta the very day you first walked into my life. And perhaps she was indeed on to something… ” Her smile turned wistful at the recollection. “It’s funny, the little things one remembers, so many years later.”

“Mmm,” Harold agreed as he buried his head in her shoulder and nuzzled the curve of her neck, clearly more interested in _not_ talking for awhile.

So Marian only said one more thing, and rather breathlessly, as his mouth and hands were claiming her downright ravenously at this point: “Do you want to stay in the music room or go elsewhere? We have the whole house to ourselves for the afternoon – Robert is at Mama’s and Penny and Elly went to a movie.”

Harold paused in his ministrations and pulled away to look at her again, and she was delighted to see his eyes twinkling as mischievously as ever. “You know, darling,” he said fondly, “I’m feeling awfully nostalgic, myself. I was just recalling the first time we canoodled on this very piano bench during our honeymoon – you were so sweetly retiring, even as you kissed me just as eagerly as I kissed you. I would never have attempted to make love to you anywhere but our bedroom in those early days, though I certainly wanted to. But when I did take you upstairs that afternoon, you were so giving, and so _warm_. You took my breath away.” He softly kissed her lips. “You still do.”

Pulling her to her feet and sweeping her up in his arms, the music professor headed toward the stairwell. Even in the midst of her glee, the ever-sensible librarian issued a protest or two – after all, they _were_ getting older and they must take care to avoid needless injury – but she quickly yielded when Harold silenced her with a heated kiss. And then Marian was no longer thinking about mortality; in this moment, wrapped in her husband’s strong, steady arms and anticipating a long and delicious afternoon of lovemaking ahead, she felt wonderfully, gloriously _alive_.


End file.
